


Foreshadowing

by absurdvampmuse



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand Fluff, Halloween, all hallows eve, feysand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 09:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absurdvampmuse/pseuds/absurdvampmuse
Summary: Start of ACOMAF./It was All Hallows’ Eve & the invite from the Night Court was heavy with cordial words & adornments. “It would be nice to go to a party, dress up and do something that will be a part of my role soon enough," Feyre played on the image Tamlin had of her, even took him into consideration when coming up with her costume. Though she was truly going for him: Rhysand./
Relationships: Feyre Archeron & Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Foreshadowing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the books or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them. All I own is the laptop I wrote this on.
> 
> A/N: Halloween is one of my favorite holidays and I figured what better place to celebrate it than the Night Court. Technically Halloween has come and gone, but I still wanted to post this story because it has been a while since inspiration has hit. I hope you enjoy and it would mean a whole lot if you took the time to leave behind some feedback for me, as well as suggestions for stories that I have missed and need to read. Thank you for reading! :)

**Foreshadowing**

_And every time I try to be myself, it comes out all wrong and like a cry for help…_

It was All Hallows' Eve. One of the rare holidays the Spring Court chose not to celebrate. Instead of choosing to stick to the ones that could be held during the day and weren't of such a gloomy and shadowy tone. It wasn't part of their repertoire so to speak, though it was in that of the Night Court's playbook. A festivity they didn't have to claim as their own because it came naturally and they celebrated annually, sending out invitations to every single Court.

The Spring Court had received theirs about a handful of weeks before, providing their guests ample time to come up with their costumes. The invite was heavy with cordial words in an opulent font and extravagant adornments to impress, from the midnight velvet of the box it came in, to the iridescent glass spiders that were hidden in its nooks. It was as if the holiday belonged to them and there was no more of a perfect place to celebrate it than underneath their obsidian colored sky.

_It was undeniable._

And it pulled at Feyre, like a painting that had yet to come together although she could see the separate colors that would ultimately form it. In this case she pictured shades of onyx with streaks of silver. Not that that painting would see the light of day; she hadn't been able to pick up a brush ever since she had come back. The shades still too bright. Still, she wondered if the image in her head would coincide with reality… If the party would be grand with throngs of people or more intimate so she would catch a glimpse of the ruler belonging to the region. She wasn't going to admit that he had been on her mind more often than not lately, the tattoos on her arm a constant reminder of a bargain that had kept her alive in that moment. A bargain she shouldn't feel ashamed for, yet it was the feeling that she was getting accustomed to whenever she saw Tamlin's eyes linger on the markings or felt him brush his fingers against them like he could wipe them away if he only applied enough pressure.

She was running her fingers absentmindedly across the tattoo herself whilst half listening to Lucien and Tamlin as they debated whether they could get away with simply declining going to the spooky gathering.

"I know no one has thought to ask me about my opinion," Feyre spoke out, having pulled her fingers from her skin and placing them on the edge of the table, lightly gripping it. "But I think it would be wise to go, show our faces and willingness to intermingle with other courts. Considering everything that has taken place and not wanting to bite the hand that fed me," she reminded them all of the circumstances which had led to her second chance. After having silenced the bickering between the two men at the table, she shrugged her shoulders and made sure to lower her lashes and shield her eyes. "And it would be nice to go to a party, dress up and do something that will be a part of my role soon enough," Feyre played on the image Tamlin had of her, his expectations.

She took him into consideration when she came up with her costume together with Alis. Black lace underneath a tight-fitted dress soft to the touch and stockings topped off with a red velvet cloak and a pair of heels to match. Darkened eyes and bright red lips played up the look she was going for: little red riding hood to match him. Tamlin. Little did she confess to him how close to the big bad wolf he could become at times. When he was dominant and made decisions that were final for her. Crowding her, towering over her and making her feel smaller than she was.

It was a transformation for her, a disguise she donned yet she had gotten used to playing a role every day since she had returned from under the Mountain. But Tamlin slipped into the part seamlessly, like he was still wearing the mask.

They arrived that night in the clearing in which the party was being held. Out in the open, something that Feyre was grateful for. To have all of this open space around her. The night lit up by strings of dainty fairy lights. Instead of for horrifying, they had gone for magically dark as the mood of the party, whimsical even. It was beguiling and everywhere she looked she found something new to captivate her. She fit in perfectly with all of the ghosts, ghouls and dark princesses around her. As if she had a part in planning the party.

"I'll get you a drink," Tamlin offered.

But Feyre waved him off, barely looking at him as she mumbled something about wanting to do it herself so she could look around even more.

Tamlin gave permission with a single nod of his head as his eyes did another appreciative scan of her appearance. "Don't wander too far."

Feyre managed to not react to his instructions, momentarily even finding the normalcy in it as she had gotten so dressed up for him, for the man she was going to marry, and she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with. A life that had gotten considerably longer and time could have an impact on people, change them and things got taken for granted. She didn't think she was ever going to take anything for granted again after having felt herself die. It was an indescribable feeling.

"Ah, Feyre Archeron," was the greeting that pulled Feyre from her thoughts, eyes landing on the female in front of her. A female that radiated an unyielding kind of backbone and undeniable elegance, more than breathtaking in her form-fitting red dress. "We've never had the pleasure of meeting one another. I've only heard of you. My name's Morrigan, but you can call me Mor. If you want," she offered with a casual shrug of her shoulders before taking a sip from the glass between her hands.

"You're outfit, it's—"

"I know, right. I wanted to be the Queen of Hearts. All hearts," Morrigan's eyes twinkled playfully as she reached for one of the glasses behind her and held it out to Feyre. "I like your costume too. Has Rhysand seen it yet? I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it. With Tamlin being the big bad wolf and all."

Feyre couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her as she took the glass from Mor. "I figured I might as well go for a theme, considering I don't get out much."

The silence lasted a beat, allowing both women to take another sip from their drinks before Mor spoke out again. "I'm not one to simply believe anything that I hear, but is it true that the Spring Court's High Lord has you under lock and key?"

Feyre's smile slipped from her face as she inwardly scrambled to come up with a different truth, one that felt believable to her. Mor's fingers tapped against the glass while Feyre raised her head to meet her inquiring eyes, having found something alike and kindred in the golden-haired female across from her.

"Only allowed out of the tower when he deems it so," Morrigan said the words softly, her entire demeanor sympathetic but never weak. It was something Feyre admired. "Listen, I know the relations between your High Lord and mine are precarious, but I believe in supporting other women, especially those who have lost sight of their light due to being overshadowed by a man. It might not be the time… yet but if you—" Mor fell silent and Feyre didn't have to follow her gaze to know that the footsteps approaching belonged to Tamlin.

"I see you found your drink," Tamlin greeted her, placing one hand on the hollow of her back while leaning in and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. Although it made Feyre wonder if it was also to showcase to the people around them how happy they were as a unit and that this was only the beginning.

"Morrigan," he directed at the other woman.

Mor offered up a polite smile. "Tamlin. We appreciate you showing your face. Lucien around?"

"He went to greet Rhysand."

"Ah, making the rounds."

"We should probably go and say hi as well," Feyre said.

Tamlin's brow creased as he looked down at her. "I was getting you to go and do just that."

"Very dutiful of you," Morrigan remarked. "Feyre, it was an absolute pleasure my dear. Don't be shy. Despite popular beliefs, we don't actually bite." She clinked her glass with Feyre's and winked at her before disappearing into the crowd.

"I like her," Feyre said to Tamlin as he escorted her through the crowds.

Tamlin snorted but before Feyre could comment on it they had come to a halt in front of three men that only looked alike upon first glance. But Feyre spotted the differences perhaps more quickly than others would. How the one with the sharper features had shorter hair and seemed to be a part of the shadows around him while the other one exuded more of a confidence and carried himself in more of an open manner. They each flanked the male with the darkest hair and eyes that at times reminded her of a starlit sky. She saw herself in them as they subtly focused in on her, yet it was Tamlin he offered his greeting to first.

He held out his arm and for one tense second Feyre saw it all playing out so differently, highly aware of the jealous tendency her High Lord had when it came to Rhysand. But Tamlin gripped the other man's arm without saying a word, nodding at the other two men as well.

Just when Feyre thought she could let out the breath she had been holding, Rhys directed his attention at her. "You look captivating. It suits you," he referred to her outfit, though he didn't indicate exactly which part.

He flicked something nonexistent from his suit jacket to appear more flippant than the compliment in fact was. She could feel it between them. Just like she swore she could sometimes feel other things between them. Almost like it were tangible things. She found it hard not to keep looking at him and at how he stood out although he was one of the few not in costume. In his jet-black suit and silver shirt and shoes. He pulled it off breathtakingly.

"The party… it's beautiful. More than. It's perfect." She wished she had bigger and better words to describe the party, but this was what came out and she looked away, more than slightly embarrassed despite Tamlin's comforting touch and encouraging smile. She wanted to shake it all off and have a moment to herself as if knowing how rare those would become.

"I'll pass the compliment on to Mor," Rhysand referred to the woman informally. "She had her hand in the planning and decorating."

The male with the longer locks snorted. "How else would she be able to ensure that her costume would be unmatched. She probably put it in the invitation as a requirement for coming."

Rhysand chuckled at the comment.

"I'm Cassian," the male introduced himself, holding out his hand to Feyre.

She refused to look at Tamlin for permission first and placed her hand in Cassian's. "You look beautiful," he complimented her before placing a light kiss on her knuckles, taking his time even when Tamlin cleared his throat. "If you weren't in such popular demand, I'd ask you to dance." He winked and let her go, grabbing the other unknown male by the shoulder. "The quiet one is Az."

"Azriel," the male corrected. "It's nice to meet you." He nodded at her.

Feyre opened her mouth to reply but Tamlin cut the conversation short, something about wanting to dance with her.

"Nice to meet you!" she called out to the two new males over her shoulder, her eyes snagging on Rhysand's for a second longer, something unexpressed passing between them.

She didn't listen to Tamlin's disapproving words as he directed her towards the dance floor. Instead, she remained silenced and danced with him. When he had to go mingle, she danced with Lucien. And when he tired, she stayed dancing by herself. Yet she was always within his sight, feeling Tamlin looking at her, watching her and perhaps even judging her because she wasn't acting in the appropriate way. She thought of how alone she felt, even amidst all of these people and even when she was at home with the man she had fallen in love with and had ultimately died for. Yet she couldn't manage to find the words or right moment to tell him this and how _she didn't paint anymore._

Feyre didn't want to dance anymore. Not when everyone was watching her, looking at how she was behaving. Her mask was slipping off. "I'm going to get some cake," she told Lucien who waved her off with a smile and didn't think twice about it even though her appetite had significantly been decreasing.

She slipped off, taking the stolen moment and found a place that was quiet and away from wandering eyes. Not quite hiding, but still waiting to be found.

Feyre dropped down onto the grass on the outer edges of the party, sensing him from the inside out before so much as hearing him, his smell hitting her simultaneously. It took her back to when it was just her in the dark and his violet eyes were the only colors she would glimpse.

He walked up to her slowly and purposely, a silver plate in his hands with a few of those little cakes on it, the ones she had been eyeing all night that were shaped like spiderwebs and bats.

Her smile was unthinking and intended as she took the plate from him. And for that moment it was almost impossible to comprehend that this was the same man who had been so cruel and cunning to her. It was even harder to recognize that perhaps she wouldn't have made it out if it hadn't been for that. She immediately devoured one of the cakes. "Thank you," she said with her mouth full, covering it quickly and daintily with her hand as soon as she caught the amusement in his eyes.

Rhys chuckled but didn't say anything as he lowered himself onto the ground next to her, an act that Feyre found somehow endearing and resonated with her. "Do you want me to get you some more?" He watched her shake her head while taking a bite from the final cake. "I'll have some wrapped up so you can take them… home with you."

"I haven't had cake in a while," she told him while putting the plate aside. She brought her mouth to the tips of her fingers, licking off some of the crumbs only stopping when she caught Rhysand's eyes with her own, the color in them more intense than usual.

"Oh, please don't stop on my account, Feyre darling. You're making even me crave… cake."

She dropped her hands to her lap, although refusing to break eye contact with him.

"I must confess that I'm surprised to see you here." He gestured to the party-goers frolicking around them.

"Yeah, well, I haven't gotten out much since I've… returned," she finally settled on the word. She stole a glance at him, studying his profile as he looked out over the party. "I'm surprised you haven't called in your bargain."

His head lazily turned back towards her. "Is that something you want…"

Feyre looked away, too quickly as if she had been caught with something precious in her possession that didn't belong to her. "Why haven't you?" she simply asked him.

Rhysand bit back the cutting joke at her expense, deciding against it as he perceived the vulnerability that she had ineptly stashed just beneath the surface. "Because I have been having this feeling that you have had it hard enough. Especially lately."

She opened her mouth, but when no sound came out, she told herself to keep breathing instead as she considered how much to share. She took a chance. "Things are indeed hard," she acknowledged out loud, some of the weight shifting from her shoulders because it was the first time she had said it out loud to someone. "Ever since I came back like this." She lifted her arms to indicate that she was talking about her body and what she had changed into. "I experience things differently. My senses are stronger. I'm stronger."

"You've always been strong," he agreed quietly, placing his hand down on the grass beside her, their fingers just grazing.

"Yet it's like nobody wants to acknowledge it, come to terms with it. I would be coping better with more… support from the ones I have come to love." Her mouth twitched as the emotions got to her more and became more real as she spoke about them. "I am unhappy at times."

"Most of the time," Rhysand corrected her.

Her brow crinkled in confusion. "How—"

"Like I said, I have a sense."

Feyre bit down on her bottom lip, shaking her head as she chose to ignore it. For now. "Perhaps I'll get past it when I have lived as long as Tamlin has. As you have."

"No," he answered honestly. "Life can still get hard at time. You merely find better ways to maneuver your way through them."

"You're actually being… decent."

Rhysand let out a laugh at the surprise in her tone. A real laugh. "Am I that horrible normally?"

"I don't know," she blurted out. "You were. Or could be." She shrugged up one of her shoulders and held on to it with her other hand.

"_It still didn't keep you from dying."_

Feyre was unsure whether he had actually said the words out loud or if she had heard them in her head. Still, she nodded. "Or from Tamlin not trying…"

"You deserve that, you know. For someone to give as much as they take. To love as hard as you do." She felt his fingers on her chin before she could turn her head away fully. "To give you room to breathe. To paint."

She allowed herself a few seconds to look into his eyes. "I haven't. Not since I came back."

Feyre pulled herself from his grasp and Rhysand snorted. "Does he know why? That the colors are too bright at times?"

Rhysand saw the curiosity in her eyes and when he made to get up, she reached out, lightning-fast, and grabbed him by the arm. "This… thing between us…" she gave him an opening to latch onto.

"Feyre!" Tamlin's voice boomed at them. "I have been looking for you!" Both Rhysand and Feyre could hear the accusatory undertone in the words.

Feyre instantly let go of Rhys, eyes flying over to where Tamlin was standing over them. "No need to howl at her," Rhysand chided him while getting up from the ground in one fluent motion, placing himself so he was in between her and Tamlin. "She was just making small talk, having some cake."

Fyre hated how she had to refrain from grabbing the plate to prove it to him. She felt so small.

She could have sworn Rhysand shook his head and the lines of his body and face pulled taut. He picked up the plate before turning to Fyre and offering her a hand to help her up. Challenging her to touch him and take it in front of Tamlin. One single and simple act of rebellion. She did, leaning into him more than she needed to, wanting to soak him up once more before she was whisked away. Back to her tower.

Tamlin pulled her hand from Rhysand's, no love lost between the two men as they remained chest to chest for a few tense seconds. It was Rhysand who stepped away first. "It was a pleasure having you. The both of you," he added with a dangerous glint to his eyes.

Tamlin didn't respond and Feyre knew that the party was over, even though she wanted to stay. She didn't want to go back. Not to a place where she found it harder and harder to breathe and be herself. There was no room for her to be anything but what Tamlin expected her to be. Even when she no longer fit into that particular frame.

The next day, Feyre was told by Alis that there was something waiting for her in the kitchen.

It was a box filled with little cakes from the party. With a note.

_A shame for them to go to waste. Savor the party for a little longer, Feyre darling._

For a moment it created a crack inside of her to feel something akin to contentment. A reprieve, a faint memory of how she could feel and that emotions were fleeting and situations alterable.

Feyre's smile was genuine as she bit down in one of the cakes.


End file.
